


Reconciliation

by Vellenox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Coming to Terms with the Past, Deceased Characters, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Love Bites, M/M, Oral Sex, Scent Marking, Witches, spells, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-23 13:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vellenox/pseuds/Vellenox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Witch casts a spell on Stiles and he finds that he's starting to see dead people - alot of them - at very inconvenient times. When he learns that the spell has an even darker nature than that, he and the pack must figure out how to reverse the curse. Before that can happen though, dearly departed loved (or maybe not so loved) ones are definitely going to make use of this little opportunity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Past No One Could Face

Stiles didn’t think he’d ever see his mom again, at least not until he died. He was still very much alive though, considering he was breathing, his heart was pounding strong, and his brain cognitive. But there she was, her face as real and as beautiful as he remembered it. Before the tubes and machines.

So what the hell was going on.

“Genim, baby, breathe.” Her voice sounded soft, and the more she spoke the further he was gently pulled out of the dark hole of panic he had fallen into. His gripping fingers achingly released their hold on his hair and he was able to lift his head out from his knees, which were pulled tightly up to his chest. His real name in his mother’s voice was so familiar when he was in this spiralling state, he couldn’t even begin to count the times he’d replayed that voice clip he had kept of her wishing him a happy birthday. It was just a ghost of a memory, an empty recording of a voice that he no longer heard. But this sounded different. This sounded _real_. He blinked away the tears. And she was still there.

His throat felt tight, his head was swirling. “M… Mom?” The word, which was once a source of comfort, a safety blanket that held him tight and kissed away all the bad in the world, now clawed at his heart and made his chest feel as if it was on the verge of exploding.

Tentatively a pale hand reached towards him and ghosted his cheek. It hesitated, unsure. “It’s me baby. I’m here.” And she was. She was really there, kneeling in front of him, her hand barely a hair’s width away from touching his face. She looked so bright, so healthy. So alive. Nothing like how he remembered her, lying on her death bed pale and weak.

And Stiles couldn’t handle it.

A sob tore through him, shaking him to his core and shocking all of his muscles into tensing painfully. He convulsed and buried his face back into his knees, wrapped his arms around himself and hid the tears that were flowing freely. It was all he could do to stifle his broken whimpers and breaths. Dealing with his father was easier. Dealing with having no mother for four years was easier. Easier than facing her after what he’d done.

Which was nothing. But it was _everything_.

He couldn’t stop the cancer from spreading. Couldn’t research the cure nor was he able to discover a way to heal her. He hadn’t even gotten God’s attention with all the prayers he would endlessly beg while he kneeled at the side of her hospital bed. She slipped away from him, and it was all his fault, because in the end all he had been was a powerless, faithless fourteen year old child.

And now he was eighteen and nothing had changed. Except somehow his mom was _back_ , whether or not it was another wolfsbane induced hallucination he didn’t know. But he also didn’t care. Real or not he was coming face to face with his past and he wasn’t ready.

“Genim, please. Baby you gotta breathe. Mommy’s here,” she sounded distraught, like she had no idea what to say to make her little boy feel better but she had to at least _try_. Suddenly he felt arms wrapping around him and a weight settled across his shoulders as she leaned into him, doing her best to provide comfort to her baby boy. “I’m here, it’s going to be alright.” She cooed and rocked him back and forth, holding him close against herself.

She felt warm and solid, and she smelt just like she used to. A mix of lavender and cinnamon. Stiles focussed on her, on the way her embrace made him feel safe and secure. His mind was racing a million miles a minute, jumping from what to how and then lastly to _why_.

There were so many possibilities. So many logical answers that meant he’d finally cracked and this was all just some sick, cruel joke his mind was playing on him. And then there were the not so logical potential reasons, ones that fit into a world where werewolves and other creatures of the night existed. A world like that was in endless supply of abnormal occurrences. Why not add seeing ghosts into the supernatural mess that was now Stiles’ life?

If it had been anyone else Stiles wouldn’t be curled up nearly hyperventilating himself into a coma. Up until this point everything that had come into his life he’d taken in stride, handled it with the open mind of a guy who’d grown up worshipping the paranormal and super-human. But it wasn’t anyone else. This was his mom. The same woman who promised him she’d be there for him forever.

“This… This isn’t fair. I-…” He trailed off as another sob overwhelmed him. His throat was so raw from being constricted as he tried to hold it all inside, but he couldn’t let go. If he let go he’d never stop.

“Hush, it’ll be alright. Just breathe. Breathe with me.” And he did. With every rise and fall of her chest he followed it. He breathed with his dead mother.

An eternity passed, or what seemed like one, before Stiles finally settled down enough to really examine what was happening. “Is this real?” He asked as he reached up and grabbed the soft arm wrapped around him. If it wasn’t he was seriously having the trippiest reaction to the burger and curly fry combo.

“Yes. I’m really here Genim.” Her voice was full, she was happy. She got to hold her baby. “I’ve always been here. I never left you, not once.” And Stiles believed that, he really did. He just wished he could’ve seen her all these years, had her hold him and comfort him like she was now and always did before. He wished she had never died at all.

“But why now? Why is it tonight that I finally get to see you again?” So many questions. What had brought her back? Where had she been? Is Heaven as beautiful as she’d told him it was when he was a kid? Had she seen everything that happened? Did she watch as his father spiralled to the bottom of the whiskey bottles after her passing? How did she feel about him finally moving on after three years, to fall into love with and eventually marry Mellissa McCall? Did she know how Stiles felt about Derek? Did she approve?

And those were just the basics. Barely brushed the surface of all the questions he needed to ask her.

“If it was up to me, this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t be running with wolves, risking your precious life every time you step out that front door.” She patted his hand as she spoke and he closed his eyes, just listening to her voice. “From all that I’ve learned I know it’s out of my power, you have to find your own path. But that doesn’t mean I dislike it any less.” She sighed.

“That doesn’t answer my question though.” Stiles murmured and slowly began to raise his head once more. She leaned away from him, still keeping him tight in her embrace but allowing room for him to sit up straighter. He looked at his far wall, his bed, the table beside it, the picture of his mom and him resting there as it had been for years now…

“There’s so much I wish I could protect you from. Pain, sadness, _guilt_ ,” she drawled out the word, emphasizing it with a deeper tone, “but you’re living your life. So who am I to keep you from running off into the woods with that _twenty one_ year old boy, or should I say _man_ , you’ve been gallivanting around with?” Stiles kept focussed on the picture, refusing to look at her and whatever expression was on her face. It had been hard enough coming out to his father a year or so ago, when he had accidentally walked in on Stiles and Danny necking.

Now _that_ was a fun conversation. Somehow Stiles didn’t think this one would be much better.

“They’re my pack mom. I do everything I can for them. Who else would be around to tie Scott’s shoes and wipe Derek’s muzzle-,” he cut himself off and felt his face heating. Why would he use Derek as an example. Why.

For a long moment they were silent.

Suddenly Stiles felt his mom’s hand on his chin and she slowly turned him to face her. “Genim, you know I love you, always. No matter what. And you know what? I think Derek’s wonderful just for the simple fact that he makes you smile. He makes you smile when I… can’t,” she paused and he felt more tears on the verge of breaking through again. When was the last time he’d smiled in memory of his mother? Sure there were times when his father would recount a story about her, some outrageous, silly thing she’d done in the name of some cause she’d gotten her passionate heart into, but those stories and moments with his dad were rare. More often than not memories of her only brought baggage Stiles, or his father, hadn’t been able to deal with.

“I… I think I’m in love with him, mom.” Stiles blurted out without thinking. He watched as a slow smile spread onto her lips.

“I know baby. I know.” This was the first time he’d ever been able to say the words out loud. And it was to his mom. And this was just… so unbelievably incredible. “Just be careful. Like, oh I don’t know, maybe next time you’re going head to head with a witch make sure the spell he casts is one that makes you rich… or luckier. Not one that makes you see dead people.” She raised an eyebrow at that and waited for him to connect the dots.

Earlier that day the pack had hunted down a hostile witch in the area, tracked and trapped him to question him about his motives. This wasn’t their first encounter with a Wiccan, and knowing their luck it wouldn’t be the last. So, if this whole luck spell was legit maybe his mom could point him in the direction of where he might obtain such a blessing, because clearly he needed it.

During their interrogation, Derek playing bad cop and Scott playing good, the witch, whose name was Lincoln, looked at Stiles, who was totally minding his own business, and began chanting. Derek almost killed him, beating him until he was broken and bleeding and silent. It was one of the most horrifying scenes Stiles had ever had to watch, Derek so close to the edge of completely losing it. It had taken Stiles a full two minutes of holding Derek’s face and screaming sense into him to finally get him to calm down enough that he wasn’t going to murder Lincoln, or anyone else.

Stiles had hoped Lincoln had only been fucking with them, or something non-threatening that wouldn’t affect Stiles’ day-to-day life. Apparently hoping for that was just about as powerful as his luck.

“But… this is kind of awesome.” Stiles admitted and smiled at his mom. He reached up and held her hand, just to remind himself that she was really there. “Without that witch I wouldn’t have gotten to see you. To talk to you.” It might’ve literally been the best night of Stiles’ life.

His mother’s smile slowly faded and her grip on Stiles’ shook as it weakened. Suddenly she was ghostly pale, almost as sickly looking as she had been on her death bed. Stiles had to look away.

“I’m glad you didn’t have to whip out a Ouija board to talk to me Genim,” she said and he remembered the one time he and Scott had borrowed Melissa’s old Ouija board to try and contact the spirits of the underworld. His mom had found them up in the attic, covered in cobwebs and dust, arguing over who had been the one moving the indicator thingy, which Stiles now knew was called a _planchette_. She had teased them about it for months, joking around about how they’d better be careful none of their ghost friends stole dad’s socks from the washing machine again. Which is how Stiles ended up exploring the depths of said machine with a superman cape tied around his neck, and was inches away from trapping himself in the metal box of doom. Luckily his mom found him before he managed to lock himself inside of it, saving him from years and years of therapy.

“Then why do you look like dad lost your favourite shirt of his again?” Stiles asked and his mother smiled fondly at the memory before the paleness returned.

Something was wrong, but she didn’t know how to tell him. “This spell… is permanent but… gradual.” She paused, waited to see if Stiles was listening. He motioned for her to continue with a hasty gesture of his hand. “So by permanent I mean can’t be reversed through any orthodox means. And by gradual I mean…” She was choked up, clearly upset by whatever she was holding back from him. He patted her encouragingly. “Stiles. The reason you can see me, will see others like me soon… is because you’re dying.”

And she had to be joking. Maybe crossing over to the other side had given her a macabre sense of humour. But she wasn’t smiling, or sporting that melodic giggle she had been so famous for, the one his dad claimed had been what made him fall in love with her. She was being serious.

“I’m dying? How?” This didn’t make sense. Well, it sort of did. Magic was always dangerous, Stiles knew that way back from when he almost poked his own eye out with the magic wand he’d begged his parents to get him for his eighth birthday. He was Stiles the Stupendous, an aspiring magician who could levitate paper and make several homemade chocolate chip cookies disappear – which was not to be mistaken with the missing socks, _that_ was all the handiwork of those pesky spirits.

“I can feel you getting closer to my world as we speak, the spell is more a curse.” Absentmindedly she began stroking his hair, brushing the dark brown strands off of his forehead. Another memory ignited as a ten year old Stiles fought against sleep after taking Adderall for the first time. His mother had been there, stroking his forehead and rocking him, humming a deep tune that made his eyelids heavy.

“Yeah, a curse that ends in my death.” He sighed.

She gave him a steady look that was halfway torn between worry, sadness, and some other expression he couldn’t quite place. “I’m really not sure what the spell meant hon, but you have to stop it. You… it’s not your time yet.” The thing is, she wasn’t afraid. There was no fear on her face like there was gripping at Stiles’ stomach. And maybe it was because she knew that maybe existence after life wasn’t so bad after all.

Which made Stiles wonder…

“What if I don’t… well what if I can’t? Stop it, I mean. What if this is completely permanent, no take backs, no crossed fingers?” He paused and bit his lower lip, trying to decide whether or not he should continue this train of thought. Being dead was a lot like sleeping, wasn’t it? No worries, no cares, no constant state of fear that you’re going to lose your life, or someone you hold close to your heart might lose theirs. Stiles would finally have a rest. Be at peace. “I could be with you… forever.” And there it was, out in the open now. Stiles could just let it happen. Let the spell work its magic.

His mother didn’t look as pleased with this as he did. “And you’d just leave your father? Your friends? Your _pack_?” She grated out, taking on the same tone she’d use when she’d discipline him, which was actually quite a rare occurrence.  “… Would you seriously leave Derek, Genim?” And just like that her voice was soft once more. They sat in silence for a long moment, which allowed Stiles to really think this whole thing through.

The idea of being with his mom again was tempting, it was like every dream he’d ever had since her passing. But he wasn’t living in a dream world, just a world where nightmarish creatures existed. And this was his reality. Werewolves existed, witches cast spells, and his mother’s spirit could visit and give him a heads up about his impending death.

Everyone he had grown to love existed in this world, not the next. And his mother would always be waiting for him. So she was right. Of course she was right. He had to find a way to break the spell and save his own life. Because his dad needed him, his pack needed him, and whether or not Derek would ever admit it, he definitely needed Stiles.

“Wow so you’ve definitely gotten better at the whole guilt tripping thing.” Stiles said finally.

“You call it guilt tripping, I call it parenting.” She shot back and winked at him. At least some things hadn’t changed, like the sense of humour Stiles had inherited from her. He couldn’t even try to hold back the smile that spread across his face.

“Tomay-toh tomaw-toh.” And she smiled too. God he had missed her.

Suddenly she leaned over and pecked him on the nose. “It’s past your bedtime mister, and you’ve got a big day ahead of you tomorrow. Time for you to sleep.” Stiles’ heart started beating faster in his chest.

“But I still have so many questions. And I mean… mom… dad and I miss you so much. We visit your grave and we leave you sunflowers and dad he… he was so lost for such a long time and… and,” Stiles wanted to keep going, tell him mom every single thing that he missed about her, like her homemade apple pies, and the way she’d sing to Amanda Marshall at the top of her lungs in the morning, or just… God, just even her hugs, and her kisses and just _everything_. He missed her so much.

“We’ll have time for that baby, just not tonight.” She patted him gently on the shoulder before she stood up. She held out a hand for him to take and helped him to his feet. “When you wake up do me a favour baby, and check under the basement staircase, alright?” She put both hands on Stiles’ shoulders and steered him towards his bed, and he let her.

He just nodded, locking it into his memory so that when he awoke he wouldn’t forget her wish. He pulled back his covers and crawled into the warmth of his bed. He snuggled himself into a cozy spot before looking back at his mother, who was smiling softly at him. “Will you still be here when I wake up?” He asked unsteadily, his heart clenching at the idea of losing her again.

Her smile turned sad as she leaned in and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “I’m always here Stiles, just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I won’t always be by your side.” Which was a comfort, but also unsettling because Stiles so did not want his mom there when he finally got Derek out of his leather jacket and every other article of clothing. She seemed to analyse the expression of supressed horror on his face and gave him a knowing, teasing look. “Exactly, so behave yourself, alright?”

He choked out a laugh and buried his face into his pillow. Yeah, behave himself, like he’d been doing _such_ a great job so far.

“Sure mom, but I’m not going to be a virgin for the rest of my life I hope you know that.” He said, his voice muffled by the fluffy pillow. She laughed too, and he felt better.

“Let’s just hope you don’t die a virgin then, hmm?” She joked and he groaned. Was this how he was with other people? Teasing and taunting and completely inappropriate? Ultimately he wasn’t going to do anything to change it because it had already been eighteen years in the making and why would anyone destroy all those years of shaping and building right? But still. So not cool mom.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, her scent still heavy in the air around him. He began drifting off, his mind utterly exhausted from the ordeal of the day. Somewhere between his waking state and unconsciousness, he heard the soothing tune of his mother’s lullaby, and felt the rhythmic, comforting touch of her fingers rubbing at his forehead. In no time he was deep in a dreamless sleep.

And when he awoke, she was gone.


	2. Where Dust Has Settled

Standing at the bottom of his basement staircase, his arms crossed tensely over his chest, chewing on his bottom lip in consternation, Stiles wanted to run back up the stairs and never think about last night ever again. The fact that she wasn’t there when he awoke was further proof he was probably just out of his fucking mind. Which was understandable considering the path his life took when he agreed to join Derek’s pack.

 _Derek_ alone drove Stiles insane, with all the constant shirtlessness and _six pack_ and those fucking eyebrows… Just everything. Even his emotional instability and constipation. Which actually, now that they’d gotten to know each other for a couple years, and had shared in a lot of personal moments with their pack bonding, Derek was actually a really good guy. He had a lot of the same morals as Stiles, mainly the idea that _family_ and _pack_ mean everything. And then there were other things, like Derek’s dry sense of humour that went uncannily well with Stiles’ sarcasm. Also Derek’s touchy feely side that Stiles discovered one night after a really trying day with the pack.

Derek, even though he may never admit it because he’d never want to ruin his broody, sour wolf reputation, had feelings. A lot of them. And he cared about every single wolf and human he’d allowed into his life. He’d even been exceptionally gloomy when they found out Jackson was leaving, and he wasn’t even technically apart of the pack at the time. And when Stiles and Scott finally joined the pack, after sorting through their nearly infinite amount of trust issues, Derek opened up more than he had ever before.

He encouraged them in their daily life choices, their academics, and even went so far as training Stiles over one summer to make him good enough for Lacrosse first line. And since Jackson was gone Stiles was able to slip into the number four spot after Boyd, Isaac, and Scott. And really, considering he was the only non-werewolf out of the four of them, it was pretty freaking amazing he could even manage staying upright while going toe to toe with them in practice. And all the extra time spent with Derek was an added bonus.

There was a lot about Derek people didn’t know, or cared enough to understand. But Stiles did. And he couldn’t wait to learn even more, every single moment spent in Derek’s presence he was anxious to learn something new. Stiles could spend years and years inside of a library dedicated to Derek. And yes, Stiles knew that sounded pitiful and ridiculous but that was how he felt. That was who he was. When he focussed on something, that he actually thought was anywhere in the least bit interesting, he could literally absorb anything and everything on the subject or person.

And really Derek had spent way too much time already alone and misunderstood, and unwilling to let others in. He deserved someone giving him their full attention, to listen to all of Derek’s thoughts and feelings, and just he _needed someone_. And Stiles needed someone. And he really, really wanted that someone to be a broody, complicated Alpha. And despite popular belief Stiles was an amazing listener.

He just wanted Derek to be happy.

But all of that really wasn’t at the forefront of Stiles’ mind, like it usually was. Right now he was concentrating on not flipping out about this spell and what the mysterious thing it was he was supposed to find under these stairs. Not that his mother would knowingly send him into harm’s way or anything like that, like if there was a man eating spider under there she wouldn’t have suggested he take a peek… right?

He took a deep breath and shook himself out a bit. “Well Stiles you’re going to die anyways so you might as well start living hard. No more fear. No more worry.” He tried to give himself a pep talk. His talking didn’t cancel out the skepticism gnawing at him though. Maybe he had finally just snapped, had hallucinated his mother, and there was nothing underneath the stairs but heartache and disappointment. It would mean he wasn’t dying, which was a plus, but it would also mean he hadn’t seen his mother again… and that was… just cruel. Sick and cruel and he was so fucked in the head if he’d done this to himself. But he had to take a chance. Had to at least make sure he was crazy before he admitted himself into the Beacon Hills’ Psyche Ward. After a few more mumbled words, and a lot more imaginings of whatever beasts lie in wait for him, he finally just shut off his brain and let his body do the work.

Underneath the staircase was basically empty, home to webs and dust, and only a few boxes that Stiles hadn’t really ever seen before. All of them were unmarked and full of contents that were definitely new to him. As he rummaged through each box a wave of nostalgia captured his mind and he lost himself for a minute, smiling and laughing as the memories took him. Things like old baby’s clothing, toys, and pictures hit him harder when they were paired with his mother’s essence. When the memories reminded him that she had been by his side almost permanently when he was a child he felt heavier somehow.

By the end of it tears were breaching his eyes, trickling down his cheeks. He sniffled, wiping away the wetness of his face, as he reached into the next box. His fingers grazed something soft. He grasped the foreign fabric and drew it out of its dusty prison. And he laughed. He laughed until his sides hurt and he was gasping for breath.

Because here was that stupid shirt his dad had lost, all those years ago. And by God it was ugly. One of the ugliest things Stiles had ever laid his eyes on. So tacky. But it was beautiful. It was gray and barely worn, and it had _wolves_ on the front of it. Because what are the chances right?

It had laid in that box, for God only knows how long. Right under their noses. And maybe his dad had been the one to hide it there, too proud to wear it yet too in love with Stiles’ mom to tell her how awful it looked. He’d probably worn it a couple times, just for her, just because he loved her so much. And then he snuck it down there, hoping she’d never look through these old boxes. But as time passed he’d forgotten about it. And when she’d been on her deathbed he’d killed himself trying to remember where he’d put it. So he could wear it one last time for her.

And here it was.

Silently Stiles slipped out of his plaid shirt and into the old, stale smelling shirt. He didn’t care that it was a little too tight in his shoulders, or that the sleeves were a little too long. It smelled of basement, but there was a hint of something deeper, something Stiles’ nose could only catch a hint of. The past maybe.

“Hey Stiles you down there bro?” Suddenly Stiles was pulled out of his silent reverie by Scott’s voice at the top of the stairs.

“I don’t know Scott, you can smell me, hear my heart beat, and God only knows what else. What do your werewolf senses tell you?” Stiles shot back, trying to keep the fact that he’d recently been crying out of his voice. Scott began down the stairs swiftly, barely stomping, which was an improvement.

When he got to the bottom of the stairway he turned to look at Stiles and he opened his mouth to say something, probably trying too hard to be just as sarcastic back, but froze. His eyebrows pulled down in worry as he examined Stiles fully. “What’s wrong?” He asked and immediately pulled Stiles into a hug. If there was one thing Stiles still hadn’t gotten used to was how touchy feely werewolves seemed to be.

“I’m fine dude, just… y’know, the dust down here triggers my allergies.” Stiles muttered out and tried to pull away from the unwarranted wolf hug but Scott didn’t budge. Because he knew. He always knew when Stiles was lying. And it wasn’t just the dead giveaway of his stuttering heart, Scott had been there for Stiles through everything. He was his brother. And right now his brother needed a hug even if he wasn’t willing to admit it right then. So Stiles gave in without a word and relaxed into the embrace.

He didn’t want to talk about it. Not yet. He didn’t want to tell Scott the clusterfuck that had become Stiles’ life overnight. So they stood there quietly in each other’s arms, and Stiles committed the feeling to memory. Just in case. He needed as many memories he could have, in case this curse thing ran its full course.

But Stiles couldn’t think about that or he’d just start crying again and Scott would make him tell him and Stiles just couldn’t.

So before it got uncomfortably long both boys let go and Scott gave Stiles a meaningful look, one that let him know that he’d be there when he was ready to talk. Stiles just smiled and nodded and motioned towards the stairs. “Better get going, school starts in ten minutes. Don’t want to be late for our first day of our last semester of high school right?” Scott nodded and they exited the basement without another word.

They were almost out the front door before Stiles was hit with the overwhelming realization he was totally and completely fucked. Because Stiles saw dead people. And the dead person that he was seeing in particular, at that specific moment in time with Scott standing _right fucking there_ in the doorway waiting for Stiles, was Laura Hale.

He’d seen a few pictures of her before, in the Hale fire files, on some internet searches, and one in the picture frame Derek had resting on his bedside table in his apartment. She was darkly beautiful, smiling at Stiles with this coy smirk playing on her lips. Her eyes were the same sharp green as Derek’s, except maybe lighter and a little more calculating. Her wolfish grin was playful and seductive. She was softer than Derek, without the same heaviness he seemed to carry around with him, and her eyebrows were nowhere near as expressive as his. But there was no mistaking her as anything other than a part of the beautiful Hale family line.

Scott looked over at Stiles, who was gawking because _hello_ and _hell no this cannot be happening_. He quickly smoothed his features and choked some explanation out to Scott before ducking awkwardly around Laura, doing a full 360, before slipping out the door.

He could’ve sworn he heard _maniacal cackling_ as he hopped into his jeep. Scott crawled into the seat next to him and stared at Stiles with a curious gaze. He wanted to ask. He wanted to so badly. But thankfully he was going to wait for Stiles to explain rather than bombarding him with questions.

With a deep breath Stiles calmed himself. If he could just make it through the next eight hours of school without dredging up all the worst parts of everyone’s past, that would be magnificent. But, again, Stiles rarely ever caught a break.


	3. Caught

He made it all of ten minutes into class before he was reminded he was not living a normal teenager’s life whose only concern was passing math and getting into University. The second time Laura appeared Stiles nearly shrieked. Mr. Davis looked curiously at him from over the text he held in front of him but Stiles just cleared his throat and looked back down to the note on his desk.

“Stiles, you know you and I have to talk eventually.” She spoke and all the hairs on Stiles’ arm stood on end. She was not allowed to do this. Not in the middle of his class. Not where everyone would see him break down. “You are literally the only way I can get through to my brother. And that needs to happen. You know it does. He needs some answers. Answers you’re going to help me give to him.” He looked up, giving her a warning glance before trying to finish writing down the note on the board before Mr. Davis decided to erase it and move on to the next lesson.

“Not now, not yet.” He muttered to both his teacher and Laura, who was perched on Mr. Davis’s desk with her legs crossed and a smug expression on her face.

“You don’t really have much time left to be arguing with me Stiles. Soon you’ll be over here, with me, and that doesn’t do either of us any good now does it?” She had a point, but not one Stiles could audibly agree with or acknowledge without everyone in the classroom labelling him as insane. Laura on the other hand was dead and invisible to everyone except for Stiles, so she could talk as much as she pleased. Which she did. “This class is so boring. Do you really want to spend what little time you have sitting in a classroom writing down bullshit you’ll never use in real life? Or the afterlife? God, it’s all such bullshit though. You should be out there in the real world living life to its fullest. So much time is spent planning things, putting things off until you’ve got time and money for it later. Well Stiles, some of us don’t have a later.” Stiles huffed out a breath of air as she continued to make his morning even worse.

He was about to raise his hand and ask to be excused from class when something caught his eye outside through the window. Something dark and brooding and definitely familiar. He looked back at Laura just in time to see the twisted look of pain on her face as she sensed the new presence too. And just like that she flickered out of existence, like she had never been there at all.

He sighed with relief and realized he’d been chewing on the tip of his pen the whole time, inhibiting him from actually taking down any notes. He focussed on the writing and solving after that, finishing equations, counting the numbers. It kept him occupied for the rest of the period, no more dwelling on the fact that he was probably going to die shortly. And the ghost pep talks weren’t really helping him solve anything at all.

Except for the case of the missing shirt, which Lydia had refused to be seen with. One look at it and the word, “nope,” left those strawberry lips faster than Stiles knew was possible. Even Allison had been a little indifferent to the idea of the old, mothball smelling shirt.

But they had no idea, and Stiles didn’t really even give a shit anyways so.

When the bell rang to signal the end of the period Stiles hurried to avoid bumping into anyone in the hallway, which he should’ve known was inevitable no matter how much he wished it wasn’t because it was like the pack literally had homing beacons on each other. It was great when one of them was in danger but when all Stiles wanted to do was curl up into a little ball and pretend like everything in his life wasn’t happening, having a troop of over-caring puppy dogs was a pain in the ass.

“I see you’re representing today,” Erica smirked and pulled at Stiles’ shirt, which pissed him off a little more than he thought it would. He tried to loosen her grip but she only held on tighter. The playful look on her face grew more confused as Stiles grew angrier, more serious in his warnings to seriously kick her little werewolf ass if she didn’t let go. “Scott was right, you’re being strang _er_ than usual. I can’t really tell if it’s worrisome or if it’s just really turning me on.” He grunted and one final tug away from her he was free, and more importantly his shirt was no longer at risk of being clawed through.

“I need to get to my next class.” Stiles said, his voice low and hollow. She bit her lower lip and suddenly pulled him to the side of the hallway away from everyone else.

“Derek wants to see you, he’s waiting in the boy’s locker room. If you don’t go to him he’ll come to you and drag you out of English by the hem of this shirt.” She patted his shoulders and smiled empathetically at him. “I promise we’re just trying to make sure you’re okay Stiles. Yesterday was…” She trailed off, looking anxiously around the hallways. “It was just fucked up.” Stiles nodded and breathed out a few would-be-laughs if it hadn’t been so damn sardonic. Fucked up didn’t even begin to describe what yesterday was, and the effects it was now having on Stiles.

“You better move it Stiles, wouldn’t want to keep Derek waiting, would we?” Suddenly Laura was there again, standing just behind Erica. Both women were looking at him expectantly, and under that kind of gaze it was hard to maintain a firm position on the matter at hand.

Stiles cursed under his breath and rolled his head back in exasperation. Who needed good grades anyways? Not this guy. Well, actually. Stiles smiled for the first time since he left his house that morning. Because _why hadn’t he thought of it this way before_?

His grades might literally mean nothing, considering his circumstances. He could do whatever the hell he wanted without facing the consequences. Well, nothing as extravagant and excessive as robbing a bank or anything as morally heavy as that, but skipping a few classes? Yeah. He could totally do that. In fact that’s exactly what he was going to do.

“Okay when I said you were stranger I actually meant _so fucking strange_. What is with that serial killer smile Stiles?” Erica asked, and she had her answer. She was definitely more worried than turned on. Stiles just began walking away from her, without a word, that smile still plastered on his face. People in the hallway moved out of his way, all probably wondering the same thing as Erica. Whether not someone was about to turn Beacon Hills High into the next killing spree school shooting crime site.

When he reached the boy’s locker room, which he only paused for a moment to question this specific location for Derek to be waiting, he calmed himself and smoothed over his expression.

“He’s going to know something’s up Stiles, no matter what you do. You might as well just give in and tell him the truth straight out. You’re dying.” She shrugged her shoulders and pursed her lips.

“Wow, thanks Laura, that wasn’t blunt at all.” Stiles answered without thinking and shook his head.

“What did you just say?” Suddenly Derek was there in the locker room doorway, looming there, making it seem as if he took up the entire space. Fuck, Stiles hadn’t meant for anyone to hear him speaking to an apparent nothing, let alone have Derek hear him say his sister’s name.

She must’ve planned this. Evil, conniving woman.

He couldn’t lie to Derek, he’d know and press even harder. “You heard what I said Derek. Everyone did. But I’m not crazy. I’m not. Probably not. Fuck I don’t know. Whatever. Erica said you wanted to see me?” Usually when he ranted it was enough to change the subject. Derek raised a skeptical eyebrow but said nothing. He grabbed a fistful of Stiles’ shirt at his chest and pulled him into the locker room. “Easy dude! You could’ve just asked politely you know!”

In the blink of an eye Derek closed the door, locked it, and turned on Stiles with a threatening look in his hazel eyes. “Scott called, said you weren’t acting like your normal self, that you were worse. What’s wrong?” Stiles wasn’t sure if the look in Derek’s eyes meant that he wanted to kill him or not, but he would proceed with caution anyways.

“Just some left over crap from yesterday, it was pretty intense. And we still don’t know what the dude was chanting.” The first part of it was the truth, but the second part of it wasn’t. And Derek immediately picked up on it. He titled his head and frowned at Stiles.

“Oh, you’re screwed now Stiles. You should’ve stopped while you were ahead.” Laura taunted and Stiles used all the willpower he could muster not to glare at her and tell her off.

“I mean, y’know. It was all gibberish, no one could understand it.” Which was true. Stiles had no idea what _specifically_ the witch had been saying. A half-truth isn’t a lie. He was backpedalling. Derek took a few steps towards him that Stiles mirrored in reverse. He backed into the lockers and Derek was instantly on him, crowding his space and making Stiles’ palms sweat. Whenever Derek was this close it tended to make all the wiring in Stiles’ brain malfunction.

“There’s something you’re not telling me Stiles. I don’t like that.” His breath was hot against Stiles’ mouth, that’s how close they were. Derek inhaled deeply, his pupils dilating. “Maybe it has something to do with why you… smell different than before… Another thing I don’t like.” Without warning he buried his face in Stiles’ neck. And Stiles didn’t even shriek at the contact, he was too used to it now. His skin still prickled though, all the nerves sacrificing themselves in the fire they were starting under his flesh.

“I’m not… I’m… Derek I promise I…” But anything coherent was futile. Derek seemed pleased, a low vibration sounding deep in his throat and chest. Stiles whimpered at the sound, gave up on trying to say anything at all.

“It’s alright Stiles, you can tell me anything.” His nose trailed along Stiles’ jaw and back again, tickled the bottom of Stiles’ ear, a soft spot he’d discovered a while back. Stiles ground his teeth together. He knew exactly what Derek was doing. Preying on Stiles’ weaknesses. Not fair.

Derek knew how Stiles felt about him, anyone with a pair of eyes could see it, and in Derek’s case having a werewolf’s sense of smell helped too. There were several times during training that Stiles found himself tackled to the ground with the Alpha pinning him down. There was no way Derek _didn’t_ know. It was there, thick with the scent, visible to even the greatest ignorance, screaming with every stuttered heartbeat.

But they never talked about it. Didn’t see the point. They both were good at ignoring uncomfortable things that involved serious feelings. Apparently at the moment Derek wasn’t worried about that though, making things awkward, he was worried about Stiles. But Stiles didn’t want anyone to be worried, least of all Derek.

“I’m fine dude. Please just…” Stiles trailed off before he could say _stop_ because he really did not want that. He wanted more, to drown himself in Derek and forget about everything. If there was a perfect time for it, it would be now, before Stiles broke the news about his imminent death and the fact that Laura was watching as her little brother scented the fuck out of Stiles’ neck. “Ugh, it’s complicated.” Stiles’ brain to mouth filter shut off momentarily.

“Your scent is… wrong… You’re not fine.” Derek spoke softly, nuzzled Stiles’ chin with his nose. “You smell like cinnamon, and lavender… and…” Derek trailed off and Stiles’ heart got caught in his throat. Cinnamon. Lavender. His mother. Suddenly Derek’s entire body seized up and he pulled away from Stiles, a crazed look in his eyes. “Death. You smell like death.”

Now that Derek wasn’t latched onto him Stiles could string a whole sentence together. “Well I guess I won’t be using the Eau du Morte cologne ever again.” Stiles tried to joke, even though his stomach was in knots and it felt like his lungs were about to collapse in his chest. Derek wasn’t amused.

“If you don’t start telling me the truth right now I’ll talk to your father about this, maybe he’ll know.” Stiles groaned at that idea, and the fact that Derek had taken to scenting his neck again. Resistance was futile. Derek was going to wear him down. Damn it.

“You know, you really do make a cute couple.” And abruptly Stiles’ brain was working overtime. He pushed Derek away, who willingly went otherwise he wouldn’t have budged. Standing there behind Derek, dripping wet and chalky white, was Matt. Kanima controlling, psychopathic, homicidal Matt.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Literally the last person Stiles thought he’d ever see again. And at the worst moment imaginable. Because Derek had kissed Stiles’ neck just a moment ago. And wait… had Stiles actually just pushed him away? _Fuck_.

“Aww don’t be like that Stiles, I thought you and I were buddies.” Matt smiled devilishly and all Stiles wanted to do was punch the smugness right off his face. Stiles was torn between his fury at Matt and the hurt expression that Stiles never ever wanted to see on Derek’s face.

“Stiles… I’m sorry. I know we haven’t ever really talked about… this. _Us_. But I… I think I can now. I should’ve asked before I… kissed you like that. I’m sorry.” Derek sounded so hurt, all because of Stiles and just _no_.

“Nope. I mean. No.” He looked over at Matt pointedly, because that was mostly for him. He was so not friends with the dead murderer. Then he looked back at Derek, his heart pounding in his chest. “You didn’t have to ask to kiss me Derek. I wanted you to, you know that, I’ve wanted you to for such a long time…” Stiles trailed off, took a step towards Derek.

He raised his hand cautiously, resting it on Derek’s stubbled cheek. “Aww come on seriously? Right here in front of me?” Matt taunted and Stiles slid his arm around Derek’s shoulder, flipping the annoying bastard off. “Now that’s just rude.”

Stiles watched as Derek relaxed into Stiles’ touch and they smiled at each other. “I want to talk about us, I really do. But there’s something I’ve gotta do first. Because if you’re ready for this, then,” he paused and stared down at Derek’s perfect lips. Derek slowly nodded, his lips parting slightly to reveal the adorable rabbit teeth of his. For a moment Stiles got lost in his own fantasy, one that he had imagined several times before with Derek’s teeth biting and teasing Stiles. But he could live it now. And that was so infinitely better than dreaming about it. 

Without another word he closed the distance with a deep kiss and he was filled with a sense of euphoria. After waiting years for this it was finally happening. And it was a little rushed and hot and wet but to Stiles it was perfect. Derek leaned into him, pressing his hot, solid body against his highly reactive one. Stiles stumbled back into the lockers and Derek followed mindlessly, eventually pushing Stiles into the lockers to keep them steady.

At first the kissing was harsh and needy, both of them finally releasing what they’d been holding in all that time. Gradually it became sweeter, prolonged and deeper. They began getting used to the other’s movements. So when Derek pulled away to begin licking and sucking at Stiles’ neck Stiles immediately felt a loss on his lips. They grew colder somehow, and if Stiles hadn’t totally been in love with what Derek was doing to his neck he would’ve pulled him back up.

At least now he could breathe. He hadn’t even realized how out of breath he’d become, and his lips were throbbing, no doubt swollen and red from Derek’s relentless kisses. Stiles could die right then and there, and he’d be good. And he might. So really everything was okay.

And then Derek’s teeth entered the equation and Stiles was just ruined.

The nerves in his neck went wild, shooting through his entire body and rousing life in all the easily excitable places. He moaned as Derek bit down a little harder, and then licked at the spot before sucking on it. It was torture. There was going to be a mark and Stiles wouldn’t be able to hide it but holy fuck it felt ridiculously good. Better than anything. Ever.

“Derek…” He barely managed a whisper, and at the sound of his name Derek seemed to get even more intense, sucking harder at the already tender, sensitive skin. Stiles didn’t even know why he had spoken at all, but he _really_ _loved_ the effect it was having on Derek. “ _Derek_ …” He hissed out and ran his hands all over Derek’s back, pulling him closer. Without warning Derek’s hips bucked and Stiles’ already hard and throbbing dick was ground against, eliciting a whimpering moan from Stiles.

He dug his nails into the fabric of Derek’s shirt as Derek thrust again, the friction against Stiles’ dick making his knees weak. They were both breathing hard, the silence filled by their jagged breathes. Derek repositioned himself, lining himself up before pushing his hardness against Stiles’ to create friction. Derek made a deep, throaty sound that made Stiles shiver.

Stiles’ jeans were already beginning to get damp from precum. Stiles wanted Derek so bad, to feel his warmth around him. “Please…” He managed to whisper out, “Derek.” He rolled his hips once to get his point across. He was so hard, so needy. Derek hummed his agreement before finally releasing Stiles’ neck. He brought his mouth once more up to Stiles’, enveloped his lips in a warm kiss.

Then he was down on his knees, working at getting Stiles’ jeans out of the way. Stiles looked around the locker room and sighed with relief. They were alone. No ghost cock blocking, thank God. “This isn’t too fast, is it?” Derek asked suddenly, looking up with this worried expression that made Stiles’ heart melt. Stiles couldn’t help it, he ran his fingers through Derek’s hair while the other hand rested along Derek’s jawline.

“Too fast would’ve been two years ago, when this was something I could only dream of.” Stiles tried to reassure Derek but he didn’t look completely sure yet. Stiles took a deep breath, smiled. “Derek, I promise you, all I want is you. I want this. It’s not too fast. If you take any longer it’ll be too late.” Derek frowned at that, unsure of Stiles’ meaning. But he gave in. He trusted Stiles.

He pushed Stiles’ jeans down, releasing his boner from its cruel prison. Next to go were the Star Wars boxers Stiles was only semi-regretting wearing. And he was exposed and throbbing and Derek was just taking him all in with his eyes. “Fuck Stiles, you’re already so hard and wet.” Stiles was about to make a comment about how he’d never thought Derek would be a talker during sex but then gasped and swallowed his words when he felt Derek’s tongue gingerly lick the sensitive skin underneath the head of Stiles’ dick.

“Oh good God.” Stiles groaned and his fingers grabbed tighter to Derek’s hair. Derek’s tongue blazed a trail along one of the veins underneath Stiles’ dick and Stiles had to force himself not to come right then and there. He hit his head up against the lockers to aid in keeping himself together, making a loud clanging sound. He really couldn’t care enough to worry about someone hearing him.

Derek stopped his licking and looked up at Stiles, a hungry glint in his eyes. “Why are you holding yourself back?” He took Stiles’ dick in one hand and began pumping slowly. Stiles squirmed as Derek tugged and lifted himself to his feet so they were face to face with one another.

“I-… I-… Ungh-,” Stiles would’ve loved to explain how he needed this to last. He never wanted it to end. But as hard as he fought against it, he came crashing down. He fell apart as Derek gave a few final, strong strokes, whispering to Stiles encouragingly. He stroked him through the orgasm, even as Stiles twitched and moaned at the sensitivity. He was a mess, his jeans covered in his own sticky come. At least his father’s old shirt was spotless. That would’ve been awkward. There was no way he was going to class like this. “ _Fuck_.” Stiles sounded torn and breathless. He’d never felt that before, so _intensely_. It was insane.

“I love you, Stiles.” Derek murmured and brought his lips crashing down on Stiles’, sucking out what little breath his lungs had managed to reclaim. His head felt light, his knees weak, and he was pretty sure he could die like this. Suffocation by osculation. And that would really, really be okay.

When Derek finally broke away Stiles was gasping for air. And he had been so caught up in the aftermath of everything, and his ears were ringing, and his mind was just completely _blissed out_ , that it took him a moment to even realize Derek had said anything at all. That he had said, _I love you_. To Stiles. Derek loved Stiles. Stiles _loved Derek_.

And Stiles was dying. Literally.

“Why?” Stiles whimpered the word, because everything was just so fucking unfair. He wanted to shove the word back down his throat, replace it with, _I love you too_. But it was too late. It was out there, in the Universe, just waiting to be answered. This wasn’t going to be the perfect moment. It wasn't uncomplicated or easy. It fucking sucked. And it was so, so awkward. Because Stiles was shoving himself back into his boxers and messy jeans and Derek was just watching him fumble like the idiot that Stiles was.

Derek leaned away from Stiles, creating distance between them with a hurt and confused frown that broke Stiles’ heart. He looked like he was at a loss for words, but before Stiles could take the question back Derek looked at him with intent eyes. “I know I haven’t been… I haven’t really shown you, or anyone, how much I care. And I know when we first met we had a shaky start. It’s just… these past few years I’ve started to come to terms with… with…” He trailed off suddenly, his head dropping down passed his slumped shoulders.

Stiles took a deep breath. “Kate?” The woman who used Derek to get to his family, so she could burn them all alive, and, who later, went after Scott, using Derek again. The woman was a bitch. And dead.

“You called sweetie?” And apparently here. Stiles would never forget her voice, and the permanent arrogant tone within it. He didn’t look away from Derek’s eyes. Derek was _Stiles’_ anchor right now, keeping him from completely losing his mind.

“Yes. And… I’m ready, obviously.” Derek motioned to Stiles’ come soaked jeans, and if Stiles didn’t know any better that was a _devilish smirk_ on Derek’s lips right now. “I should’ve told you before, how I felt. How much you mean to me. Because yesterday… when we brought that witch in and he started chanting and directing it at _you_ … I just couldn’t… what if something was to happen to you Stiles? And you didn’t know that I… I’m in love with you.”

Kate drawled out a long, annoying, “awww,” and Stiles had to keep himself back from losing his shit. His heart was racing nearly as fast as his mind was, and he was starting to get a headache.

“What about all the other times? Times where other werewolves were after us, or the kanima, and all the other assortment of bad guys?” Stiles asked, trying not to let the anger he felt for Kate, and his life at the moment, seep into his words. Derek just stood there, frozen.

“I could put myself in between them and you Stiles, but I can’t do that with a spell.” Derek spoke softly, barely above a whisper and without meeting Stiles’ gaze. Stiles’ heart clenched even tighter in his chest, he didn’t know how much more of this he could handle.

Derek would sacrifice himself for Stiles, but Stiles never wanted that. He’d never wanted Derek to play the knight in shining armor, not once. Even if Derek was stronger and faster and everything else that being a werewolf brought along with it, _he wasn’t in this fight alone_. And Stiles never wanted Derek to forget that. It wasn’t all Derek’s responsibility. Derek had a _pack_. A _family_. People who genuinely loved him.

Suddenly Stiles felt his eyes straining to hold back tears. Derek loved him, wanted to protect him, but Stiles… he was so happy the witch had chosen him and not anyone else. Because it was his turn to step in and protect the pack. No matter how this ended, Stiles would have no regrets.

“Look, as touching as this is watching you two get your gay love on, which is super-hot on the both of you by the way, I’d really love a little chat with you Stiles.” Kate said from where she stood leaning against the far wall of the locker room inspecting her nails. Stiles ignored her entirely, hoping she’d just go away.

“I never want you to ever put yourself in harm’s way to protect me, got it?” He grabbed a hold of Derek’s chin and pulled him in close so he could rest their foreheads together. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’ back and held him close. “It’s not your job to protect me, it’s impossible. Have you seen me? I’m sorta a walking disaster. I’m a magnet for danger.”

“No you go _looking_ for danger, there’s a difference.” Derek cut in, a fond and teasing smile spreading across his lips.

“Hey! I wasn’t finished! And whether or not I’m attracted to danger, or if danger’s attracted to me, it makes no difference-,” Stiles started again but suddenly Derek pulled Stiles’ hips into his and Stiles lost his train of thought because of the hardness grinding against him. He had almost forgotten Derek hadn’t been taken care of.

“Danger’s _definitely_ attracted to you.” Derek rumbled and Stiles had to fight hard to get himself back on track. They had to deal with their feelings first, no more emotional constipation. If Stiles could face Derek he could literally look death square in the eye and challenge it to a staring contest. And death would blink first damn it.

“I’m trying to tell you that I love you too Derek! I love you. And I need you to know just in case-,” but Stiles caught himself and cleared his throat. He stuttered out a very intelligent, “uhh, I mean, like. Y’know. Just in case you didn’t know already, even though you’ve probably known for years how I’ve felt.” Because Derek is a werewolf and Stiles was a horny teenager whose dick decided its main goal was to publically humiliate him every time Derek was around.

“It was in every stuttered heartbeat, every word and hurried breath. I could see it in your eyes, smell it on your skin. I kept telling myself you’d grow out of it. I hoped you would. You’d be so much better off…” Derek trailed off and looked away sadly. Stiles was not having any of that now, nope. Not after all of this. This whole conversation. He’d love Derek until the day he died, and even much after that. Derek would always be a part of him, because the love Stiles felt for Derek was imbedded in the core of Stiles. This love they shared was a part of his soul now. And he was never letting it go.

Stiles tilted Derek’s chin up and leaned away so he could look into Derek’s eyes clearly. “I love you Derek, it was never just some high school crush driven by hormones or loneliness. I genuinely love you dude. I always will.” Stiles said and brought him into a tight hug, with Derek’s face buried into the crook of Stiles’ neck.

They stood in their embrace for a long moment before Stiles remembered that the thing poking him wasn’t Derek’s phone in his pocket. Stiles was going to show Derek just how much he loved him, but not here. Not in the Beacon Hills High School where anyone could walk in unannounced and ruin this.

“I’m not fucking with you anymore Stiles, before you bone my brother you and I need to have a serious conversation.” Laura reappeared, looking a lot more distressed than she had last time. He knew she was right, he couldn’t put his situation off just because there were pesky boner problems to be taken care of. He felt overwhelmed for a moment, slipping into pre-panic attack mode, but Derek held on tighter, hearing the rise of Stiles’ heart beat and shaking intakes of breath.

“I need you to meet me back at my house though, okay? In like half an hour.” Stiles said but Laura raised a pristinely arched eyebrow at him.

“Try an hour Stiles.” She corrected him.

“And by half an hour I obviously meant an hour.” Stiles muttered out and waved in Laura’s direction. Derek made a sound that closely resembled a whine, but it was Derek so obviously it had to have been something much more manly than that right?

“You actually think I can last that long Stiles come on.” And okay so maybe the amount of neediness in Derek’s voice was totally turning Stiles on but Laura raised an amused brow and shook her head.

Stiles just huffed out in frustration and threw his hands up in defeat. He gave Laura a pointed looked and she groaned with exaggeration and rolled her eyes. “I’ll give you five minutes Stiles,” she growled and suddenly disappeared. A slow grin spread across Stiles’ lips.

He slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of Derek, coming level to Derek’s glorious crotch. There was a sharp intake of breath from Derek and Stiles revelled in the fact he caught the big bad werewolf by surprise for once. He began unzipping the jeans hastily, determined to make good use of his five free minutes. Derek made no objections, merely grabbed a fistful of Stiles’ hair and braced himself. Stiles wasn’t going to overthink this or freak himself out. He was just going to _do_ and let his instincts tell him exactly what was needed to be done.

As soon as Derek’s dick was free Stiles sucked him in. Gradually he took him, tasting the sweet saltiness of Derek’s flushed cock. Stiles licked into Derek’s slit and almost choked when Derek’s hips bucked and Derek moaned as Stiles took down all of Derek.

“Mmm Stiles-,” Derek groaned and Stiles pulled away, releasing Derek with a dirty sounding _pop_ that would never leave Stiles’ brain ever.

“Hmm Derek?” Stiles asked and slid his tongue along Derek’s throbbing, sensitive hardness.

“Why’d you-,” Derek began, breathless, but it was stifled by the deep groan Stiles coaxed out of him when suddenly his mouth was around Derek again, sucking hard and fast. “Nngh _fuck_. _Christ Stiles_.” He hissed, and his hips bucked again and Stiles rode it out, even managed to flick his tongue out and licked at Derek’s balls. The hand curled in Stiles’ hair gripped tighter, encouraged him on. He repeated the action, sucking Derek’s dick down, and suddenly Derek was coming with an extremely loud, _totally fucking sexy_ moan of pleasure.

And Stiles swallowed every last bit that Derek had to offer. He made sure he milked Derek through his orgasm, getting every last bit of come he could before finally releasing Derek and looking up to see just how wrecked Derek looked. He was still breathing heavy, an almost dazed look in his eyes that meant he was still in a post-orgasmic state. And Stiles was so pleased with himself he hadn’t even noticed another presence in the room with them.

“Holy shit.” Stiles was going to ignore that voice and mark it off as another ghostly apparition but suddenly Derek went rigid and well that wasn’t good. Stiles looked over his shoulder to see fucking _Greenberg_ just standing there with his equipment slung over his shoulder, openly gawking at the scene before him.

Derek hurried to put himself away, probably horrified that anyone but Stiles had seen him so vulnerable. “Dude don’t you knock?” Stiles asked as he raised himself to his feet and waited impatiently for Greenberg’s mouth to stop hanging wide open because that was seriously unattractive.

Greenberg’s expression went from sheer surprise to confusion back to surprise and Stiles was on a time limit here damn it. “Don’t you know how to lock doors?” He asked and finally managed to stop gaping.

Derek hastily stormed passed them, still fumbling with his zipper, “yo Derek! You gotta meet me at your place in an hour okay? I’m not finished with you yet!” Stiles hollered after him, a little miffed that Derek had left without even saying goodbye. He looked over at Greenberg who just looked _disturbed_. “You act like you’ve never seen someone give head before.” Stiles shook his head in mock exasperation and just walked right passed Greenberg, giving him a soft pat on the shoulder as he went.

Poor guy.

Before he could make his exit though his step stuttered when he remembered Derek _had_ locked the door when the first came in here. _What the Hell?_ He frowned, biting his lower lip and tested out the lock. It seemed to be working fine. Maybe he just thought he saw Derek secure it in place but…

Kate materialized, a sly grin on her face. “You can thank me for that.” She winked at him and wiggled the lock herself, actually _moving it_. And that would’ve been so cool, like some really awesome paranormal activity shit, except Kate was using her powers for _evil_ , though no big surprise there really.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave Stiles and I alone now Kate.” And there was Laura too, looking as pissed off as ever. Before Stiles could even look back to see Kate’s expression the she-bitch was gone. “Alright, time for you and I to finally have our little chat.” Laura grinned and walked out of the locker room, expecting Stiles to follow.

And well, he did, because what the hell else was he going to do with the little amount of time he was alive, right?


	4. Gotta Say Something

“Okay, let me get this straight-,” Stiles began, holding his hands out in front of him like they could do all the talking on their own.

“I highly doubt you could get anything straight all things considered,” Laura cut in and gave him a taunting look. He just sat back on the bleachers, rolling his eyes at how juvenile that joke was. “But please, do continue.” He tilted his head, making sure she saw the bitter smile on his face.

“Thank you, you’re so considerate.” He responded and she returned the smile and the attitude tenfold. “As I was saying,” he started and looked back at his hands, “you want me to tell Derek that I’m seeing dead people because of this death spell, just so that I can tell him that _you actually forgive your uncle for killing you_? Seriously?” It didn’t make sense to him, how she could forgive the man who betrayed her.

He sighed, like they’d been over this a thousand times already. “Yes, that’s all correct, would you like a gold star for parroting all that I just said back to me?” She even looked a little _bored_ with him.

“I’m not telling Derek about this curse or whatever. I don’t need him worrying about me and putting himself in harm’s way. That witch is still locked up in the basement, and I need to find a way to talk to him without anyone knowing.” Stiles said, though the last part was more him just saying his thoughts out loud as they occurred to him. If anyone knew how to reverse the spell it’d be the one who used it in the first place.

“You’re joking… right? Like you can’t actually be _that_ naïve. I mean, you know you can’t do this alone… right?” She asked, and she looked genuinely curious to hear Stiles’ answer. He puffed out his lower lip and thought about it, for all of three seconds.

“I can’t tell them yet, they’ll go off and do something stupid like provoke a whole witch’s coven to come after them, which, _by the way_ , they are very close to doing anyways, so. Yes. I’m doing this alone. With the help of my lovely and agreeable ghostly companions.” Laura laughed out loud at that. Rude.

“Ghostly companions? First of all I’m the only one here trying to help you, secondly there’s not much I can do anyways besides offer moral support, and lastly you’re an idiot and if you’re going to willingly put yourself in danger when it can be prevented then I seriously don’t want you to stick around my brother.” And the thing was, she was completely serious. Stiles felt taken aback and hurt, because for some unknown reason he felt like since Laura was here, he wanted her approval. He wanted Derek’s entire family’s approval.

“I think both you and I know that’s definitely not on the table for negotiation. I love him.” Stiles answered somberly.

She remained completely composed while still managing to give him one of the most terrifying stare downs of his entire life. But he wasn’t afraid of Derek and he wouldn’t be afraid of his sister. Even if she could haunt his ass and possibly possess him and that would not be cool. “If you really did love him you’d make sure you’re able to stick around for a _very long time Stiles_. And if you don’t you need to figure that out soon. Because you’re better off leaving him now rather than later when he gives his heart fully over to you. He’s already lost so much. And he loves you. And if he loses you too… My brother’s been through enough pain, don’t you think?” Laura asked and she was right and Stiles hated her for it.

But he still didn’t want to tell Derek. Not yet.

“I gotta think this through okay? No way am I throwing myself into this without some idea of what I’m going to do.” Stiles paused and inhaled deeply. “I’m not going to leave Derek, he’s pack. And I never want to see him hurt, okay? So maybe telling him that I’m dying, and that I can hear and see his dead sister isn’t the best way to approach the situation.” He sank lower in his seat as a gym class strolled out to start on the field. He looked over at Laura to see her anxiously biting at her lower lip.

“Okay I can see how that may not go over so well.” She admitted like she hated the idea Stiles had actually been right and therefore, she _wrong_. “But it’s gotta be soon. You’re already starting to lose some of that colour my brother blew into you earlier. In no time at all, you’re going to be whiter than the virgin that you are Stiles.” And with that she disappeared and Stiles felt somewhat amused and somewhat appalled and just really fucking confused.

Well he was still technically a virgin, not an _oral_ virgin but he was working on using his full v-card up as soon as possible. But holy shit Stiles stop worrying about that you have more pressing matters to attend to.

Like the fact that this is Greenberg’s class and he was staring up at Stiles with this confused and curious look on his face. Before Stiles could slowly slink away awkwardly, like he was trying to do while still maintaining the weird eye contact with the dude as he slid his ass along the bench towards the exit, Coach Finstock came to Stiles’ rescue.

Coach blew the whistle hard and long into Greenberg’s ear before shouting, “ _Greenberg_! What in God’s name’s got you looking like you’ve just come across your first chest hair?” Stiles could hear every word even from across the field. “Get yourself into gear already! Jesus. You’re worse than my two year old nephew’s always got one finger up his nose and the other down his pants. He’s got time for that kind of thing but the clock’s ticking Greenberg and it ain’t gonna stop just so you can make sure your boys are still attached to ya! Now come on! Ten laps Greenberg, _ten laps_!” The dude seriously had the weirdest way of trying to motivate people.

When Stiles reached the school parking lot he glanced at his watch to see it was already almost time to meet up with Derek. He hopped into his jeep, cranked the tunes up full blast, and tore out of the school’s front drive. He got halfway before he realized he still had no idea what he was doing.

He pulled up to a red light and sat back in his seat, assuming the deep-thinking position. It wasn’t long before his brain spat out a couple ideas, just in time for the light to change to green and for Stiles to be on his merry way. Since the Holy Grail and fountain of eternal life were out of the question, really all he could do was research and investigate. His best source for information was the witch tied up in the Hale house basement, but Stiles had a few other places he could go to other than the Internet.

The tricky part would be finding a way to ask questions without raising suspicion.

So when he pulled up to the old Veterinary clinic, looking to make sure the open sign was on, he ran through a list of approaches he could take with Deaton.

They’d found out about him not too long after they joined Derek’s pack. Stiles had stayed up that entire night, researching shamanism and absorbing every last bit of awesomely cool info he could get his hands on. Most of what he learned was contradicted immediately by Deaton when he started inquiring about it, and Derek had given him the old Stiles-you’re-an-idiot look. But this shit was cool and Stiles wouldn’t be chastised for having a healthy curiosity and wanting an even healthier consciousness of the world around him.

And there was a lot to know.

The discovery that werewolves could be forced to shift against their will, that they could be controlled by a certain type of wolfsbane, any knowledge was critical knowledge if it meant they were prepared for anything. Sure Stiles couldn’t run superfast on all fours – though there had been one unfortunate night they were all drinking and Allison had dared Stiles to try, and he may or may not have face planted into the ground, getting a mouthful of grass and dirt – and he couldn’t bench press two hundred pounds with one hand, but he was smart and quick. He and Lydia both were almost an impenetrable wall of tactics and ideas when they co-operated.

Lydia had made her choice a long time ago though, to not be a full member of the pack. Not like she wasn’t considered one anyways, but she had focussed on learning about herself for the past couple years since Jackson left. She was immune to the bite and no one knew why, not even Deaton, who’d been dealing with the supernatural world since birth. And no amount of old family knowledge had given them even a scrap of a clue as to what Lydia was or what she had.

And that really messed with her because Lydia knew everything. She was brilliant. An actual genius. The Leonardo DaVinci of the twenty first century. So she dove into the mysteries of her own world head first, without holding back. And here they were two years later and she still hadn’t cracked the code yet. Which was why she was going to South Africa with Deaton after she graduated from high school. All the post-secondary schools were begging her to attend them, throwing all sorts of ridiculous cash her way in scholarships.

But she was Lydia Martin, and the schools would still be there when she decided to go back.

In any case it was safe to say that having her even somewhat apart of the pack was a Godsend. Same with Allison too, who eventually joined up after Derek saved her father’s life from a group of hunters who strolled into Beacon Hills a year back with the intent on killing the pack and any who got in their way. The ‘code’ was basically as useful as the ‘pirate code’ and apparently could be considered more like just ‘guidelines’.

Chris had tried to reason with the hunters, because he actually had some humanity and decency left in him, and they had tied him to a chair and saw it fit to electrocute him until he told them all he knew about Derek’s pack. Which wasn’t much. Everyone agreed it was safer for him not to know too much, not to get too involved. Even Allison, whose friendship with Lydia remained but relationship with Scott did not at the time, thought it best that they stuck to more _normal_ girl talks, like boys and fashion and school.

But when her father was captured and tortured and the pack was there at her back to save Chris, it was obvious to her that the pack would stand by her side even after all they’d been through. After they saved Chris he thanked them in earnest, and after a week or so Allison showed up on the Hale house front door with him, both asking for the Alpha’s permission to become pack. A few manly tears were shed and that was that.

Derek was only suspicious of Chris for a few months, and then another group of hunters strolled through the territory and Chris had reassured them that the Argent family had everything under control. They left, knowing the prestigious Argent family could handle themselves without question. And Derek loosed up a little on the new human pack members.

It wasn’t long until pack ties were made, and the connection could be felt by every member. Including the Argents. And they’d all been together ever since.

The only one they lost was Jackson, but he had his own journey to take, his own identity to find. And the pack could understand that. Even though he wasn't full pack he still had a place in Beacon Hills amongst its werewolf clan.

Stiles wondered for a moment if he would ever see Jackson again, and though he still carried some residual dislike for the guy, he would still want to say goodbye. Because Jackson had grown up a little and Lydia was still head over heels in love with him. And Stiles had grown to accept that. All those years of pining after Lydia Martin slowly melted away until he realized he wasn’t in love with her. He would always love her, and they had a stronger friendship because of that, but they weren’t ever meant to be.

And that was really okay.

He let out a small sigh before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his cell. There were several text messages waiting for him, a few pack members checking up on him because they’d heard he wasn’t feeling so well, one from his dad asking him to make sure he takes out the garbage tonight, a couple messages from Scott freaking out about how Stiles hadn’t texted him back yet, and then one single one from Derek.

 _I’ll be waiting._ Short and abrupt and a little creepy. Stiles smiled and breathed in a sigh. Such a romantic his werewolf was.

 _And I’ll be coming in less than fifteen minutes ;)_. He sent the text with a dirty little smirk on his face. He hopped out of the car and walked into the clinic. “Yo Dr. Deat? You in here?” Stiles drummed on the top of the counter with his fingers. Deaton strolled out of the back smiling broadly.

“Stiles! To what do I owe this pleasure?” He glanced over at the clock and his brow furrowed in confusion. “Shouldn’t you be in class right now?” His voice was always so pleasant, like the dude was constantly in an infectiously good mood.

“Yeah I’m taking the day off for personal reasons. I just came by to ask you a favour.” Stiles answered and leaned against the counter. Beside him his mother materialized, almost causing Stiles to jump out of his own skin. Deaton looked over in her direction and then looked back at Stiles, who had his hand clutched to his heart, with a raised brow.

“Does that favour have anything to do with the fact that you can see your mother right now?” Deaton asked, almost casually. And Stiles’ jaw dropped.

“How did you-,” Stiles began to ask but caught himself because he just gave away the fact that Deaton was right and now there was no way he could deny it. Deaton started chuckling.

“I’m a shaman Stiles, I’m connected with the spirit world. My question for you is how you’re able to see her right now too. Not that I doubt you’d be capable of eventually becoming a shaman yourself but it would still be years before you could actually cross over to the spirit plain and communicate with them.”  He explained, smiling welcomingly at Stiles’ mom.

Stiles choked, trying to find an acceptable excuse as to how and why. “Well, you see, the funny thing-… it’s really a funny story actually. I was reading this book and-,” he tried but his mother scoffed, shaking her head.

“Stiles you know better than to lie. Your father and I raised you better than that.” She fixed her pointed gaze on him and he groaned in frustration. This so wasn’t fair. His mother was ratting him out and that just wasn’t right at all.

“ _Mooooooom_!” He grumbled and crossed his hands over his chest like he used to do when he was a child. “You’re ruining my whole approach on this!” He pouted as Deaton looked on with amusement.

His mother was smiling too, _tsk_ ing at his childishness. “Lying is never the approach to take mister.” She scolded him and then started walking over to Deaton. She held out her hand, which he shook easily. “I don’t think we’ve been formerly introduced, my name’s Acacia.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Acacia, I’m Alan Deaton. I help your son and his pack out in whichever way I can.” They exchanged smiles and then suddenly both were looking at Stiles. “So what really happened?” Stiles uncrossed his arms and aggressively began his drumming again.

“The witch we caught cast a spell on me and before Derek could stop him I guess the spell took because now I’m seeing dead people and getting cock blocked by ghosts and my _mom_ is ratting me out to you.” He paused, making sure to shoot an unimpressed look his mother’s way. “Oh, and I’m dying. Slowly. So there’s that too I guess.”

“Yes, there’s that too.” His mom growled, rolling her eyes at him. He’s so glad he got his sass from her.

“Hmm… Interesting. I’ll look into it for you, that sounds like dark magic, probably a branch of Necromancy.” Deaton spoke, though it seemed like he was talking to himself more than to Stiles and his mom. “Reversing spells is difficult enough, when it’s _not_ dealing with life and death. This might be beyond my capabilities. I’m going to give a few of my contacts a call, see if I can’t dig something up.” And with that he left the room, leaving Stiles and his mother alone.

Stiles was about to open his mouth and chastise her for ruining his plan but when he looked over his jaw just sorta snapped shut on its own. She was looking at him, with this expression he couldn’t quite understand because it was a mixture of a bunch of different things. And she was smiling, but her eyes looked sad. Like maybe she’d be crying if it wasn’t for the fact that she was a ghost. “I don’t get why you don’t want help with this Stiles.” She muttered and sighed heavily.

He swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump that had formed in his throat. “I want help. I just… I don’t want anyone to freak out. Scott would probably kill the witch, Allison would help him. Erica, Isaac, Boyd, _and_ Danny would all go after the coven and probably start a war with them. Lydia would end up ignoring her studies to try and find a cure… it’s just. I don’t want them hurt. Y’know?” He didn’t want them all worried and thinking they had to save him.

Because what if they couldn’t? What if they try to help Stiles and he died anyways? There would be so much guilt, just from not being able to save him. But it wouldn’t even be their fault. Stiles knew how it was though, to feel guilt for something you couldn’t stop from happening.

“I know Derek would never forgive himself if you died and he hadn’t done anything to stop it. Because he’d blame himself for not knowing, and he’d think you didn’t really trust him.” Suddenly Laura was there too, and she wore an even sadder expression than his mother. “You don’t think he’d stay awake at night haunted by all the ‘what-ifs’? All he’d have left is Peter, and the pack, but you’re his _home_ Stiles. At the end of the day he wants to spend his life with _you_.” She looked completely serious, and she sounded truthful but…

Stiles threw his face into his hands. “How would you even know that?” She wasn’t Derek. For all Stiles knew Derek would get bored of him sooner or later and then all Stiles would have left is a broken heart.

But even Stiles knew that was ridiculous. Because he _did_ trust Derek. He knew that when Derek told him that he loved him, he wasn’t just _saying it_. He had meant it and felt it. And even the thought of Derek loving him made Stiles melt. “Stiles don’t act stupid, I think we both know you’re behaving like a child right now. Derek doesn’t say I love you to just anyone. And he also doesn’t jack every single guy he comes across off in the boy’s locker room.”

And right then Stiles could’ve died. Because for one thing, his mom was _right there_ looking at him with a fairly plain look on her face. And two, this was Derek’s _sister_ and she knew what had happened in the locker room. And lastly, Deaton chose that precise moment to walk back in. He stopped dead in his tracks, looking halfway between amused and unsure what to say or do.

Holy awkwardness Batman.

If there was such a thing as dying from embarrassment Stiles was pretty sure this was how it all ended for him. His face was on fire and all he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and remove himself from existence entirely. “Laura why.” Stiles asked and buried his face deeper into his hands.

“I’m just saying man. I think if you really love my brother you need to tell him. Right now.” Both women looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to give in and agree to it already. Deaton just shrugged his shoulders and continued on his merry way to the desk where the phone was.

“Fine, okay? I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him that I’m dying and his sister and my mom know that we publically conspired in coitus illegally and indecently. And that I can see dead people. And if we don’t reverse this stupid spell I’m going to be one of the dead people too. I’m sure he’ll be ecstatic to find out.” Stiles threw his hands up in defeat and stomped his way out the front door of the clinic leaving them all behind. “Call me if you find anything Doc!” He called over his shoulder, but he didn’t wait to see if Deaton heard or not.

He was on a mission, and if he over thought it he would probably talk himself out of i,t and he couldn’t do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates for this fan fic may be a little varied in time, just 'cause I think I'm gonna focus on my other fic for for now. It's got more action and feedback so looks like that's gotta be my priority # 1. Still thinking about this fic and you guys though <3 Hopefully updating soon.


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